
Class _^^.M1Z_ 
Book- //^^(^iT 



CoRyiiglitN". 



-^ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSrr 




PRISCILLA JANE THOMPSON 



GLEANINGS OF QUIET HOURS, 



ftV 



Priscilla Jane Thompson. 

AUTHOR or 

"Lthiope Lays.- 



Published and Sold by The Author. 
RossMOYNE Ohio. 

Copyrighted, 1907, by Priscilla Jane Thompson, 



kibfiARY of OOwaRE^S, 
s wo Copies rtetOii-o- 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE, 

Athelstane 1 

A Prayer 9 

Adieu, Adieu, Forever. - . , 12 

A Home Greeting 22 

A Christmas Ghost. .... 30 

A Valentine. . - . . . 33 

A Tribute to the Bride and Gruom. . 34 

An Afternoon Gossip. . . . 39 

Adown the Heights of Ages . . 69 

After the Quarrel. . , . , 72 

A domestic Storm 81 

A little Wren 83 

Address to Ethiopia 86 

Autumn . dS 

A kindly Deed. . ,••• \, . .96 

Death and Resurrection ♦.'!' . . 10 

Emancipation. , . . . . . 35 

Freedom at Mc Nealy's. ... 65 

In the Valley 84 

Insulted 7S 



1' 

r 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE, 

Just how it Happened. . , , ,7 

Lines to an old Schoolhouse. . , 2y 

Lines to Emma. ... . 90 

Oh whence comes the Gladness. , 94 

Rapael. . . . . .77 

Song of the Moon. , , •74 

Soft black Eyes. - • • 77 

The Snow-flakes. ... 2 

The Fugitive. . . . ,3 

The Husband's return. . . 13 
The Examination. , . , 2S 

To a deceased Friend. . , ,37 

The Muse's favor, . . . 4S 

The favorite Slave's story, . , 49 

The interrupted Reproof. , . 63 

The old Freedman. . . , g7 

The old Year. . . . 100 

Uncle Ike's Holiday. . . 20 

Uucle Jimmie's Yarn. . . 91 

While the Choir sang. . , 17 



INTRODUCTION. 

In presenting this little volume uf poems to the 
public, (mostly of which are closely associated 
with a proscribed race,) the writer's sole and 
earnest endeavor, is to Hring to light their real 
life and character; and if in any of these humble 
and simple rhymes, a passage or thought may 
chance prove a medium, through which the race 
may be elevate 1, or benefited, if only in the prt- 
vate mind of some reader, the writer feels, that 
her efforts is fully repaid. 

THE AUTHORESS. 



DEDICATED 

TO 

My Sister and Brothers, 



GLEANINGS OF QUIET IIOUKS. 



<3l6ar)ir)gs Of Qalet fio^rs, 



ATHELSTANE. 

H, ATHELSTANE, the faithful! 
Why linger at my gate? 

Is not thy hopes yet blasted? 
I for another wait. 



© 



Now hie thee, to yon forest; 

'Tis Clare bids thee depart; 
Nay, bow thee not in sorrow, 

To break my bleeding heart! 

**Oh Clare, why wed another? 

Thou canst but give thy hand, 
Thy heart is in my keeping, 

Were I in foreign land." 

**Why tarry here, in bondage, 
When freedom is so nigh? 

My steed waits in yon forest, 
And champs his bit to fly." 

**Far from thy cruel uncle, 
Thy pining heart shall rest, 

In peaceful bliss of Eden, 
Upon thy lover's breast. " 



-1- 



(31e8r)ir)gs Of QCiiei fioars. 



"Oh, Athelstane, the faithful! 

My heart is thine alone; 
No more I'll brook their babble, 

I'll fly with thee, mine own." 



THE SNOW-FLAKES. 

] — \OVVN, DOWN, in millions, blending, 
Jet/ 'phg snow-flakes gambol fast; 
With eddies gay, descending, 

Hurled by the winter's blast. 
Down, down, in millions, blending. 
The shower seems never ending. 
While a white spread is extending, 
From the countless flakes, amassed. 

Down, down, in millions blending. 
The snow flakes gambol fast; 

Each little drop is wending, 
To a resting place at last. 

Down, down, in millions, blending, 

Our God the flakes are sending. 
And a lesson is impending, 
Which blind man fails to grasp. 



-2- 



QleBr)ir)gs Of QCiiet fioCirs^ 



Down, down, in millions, blending. 

The snow-flakes jj^ambol fast; 
In mysti<: shapes, portending, 

God's wisdom ofreat and vast. 
Down, down, in millions, blending, 
While scholars are contending, 
And the sage his wits is bending 
Unexplained, they drift and pass. 



THE FUGITIVE. 

WITH BLEEDING back, from tyrant's lash, 
A fleet-foot slave has sped, 
All frantic, past his humble hut. 
And seeks the wood instead. 

Once in the woods, his manhood wakes- 
Why stand this bondage, wroth? 

With diabolic, reckless heart. 

He turns he, to the North, 

He flings his crude hat to the ground, 

And face the northern wind ; 
Fleet in his tracks, the blood-hounds bay, 
He leaves them far behind. 



(3Ie5i}ii>gs Of QCxiet Iio6rs, 



By devious way, cross many a stream, 
He fiercely pressed that day, 

With deadly oaths for brush or brake, 
That chance to block his way. 

Erelong, when kind and soothing night, 
Had hushed the strife of man, 

He wades waist-deep, unto a tree, 
To rest awhile and plan. 

He knows no friends or shelter, kind, 

To soothe his deadly grief. 
He only knows, that farther north, 

A slave may find relief. 

No lore of book, or college craft. 

Lends cunning to his plan. 
Fresh from the tyrant's blasting touch. 

He stands a crude, rough, man. 

But Providence, with pity, deep, 

Looked down upon that slave. 

And mapped a path, up through the South, 
And strength and courage gave. 



Glesr);r)gs Of Qaiet fioars^ 



Sometimes, a friendly fellow-slave, 
Chance, spying where he hi^, 

At night would bring his coarse, rough, fare, 
And God speed v/armly bid. 

And sometimes, when to hunger fierce, 

HeM seem almost to yield, 
A bird would fall into his clutch, 

A fish would shake his reel. 

And when on reaching colder climes, 

A sheep-cote shelter made, 
Or, law-abiding Yankee, stern. 

Clandestinely, lent aid. 

Till after many a restless day, 

And weary, toiling, night. 
All foot-sore, worn, and tired of limb, 

His haven looms in sight. 

His tired feet press Canadian shore. 

Friends tell him he is free; 
He feels a craving still, to hide. 

It seems it cannot bSo . 



-5- 



Ql6ar)ir)9s Of QCxiet Po6rs, 



But from suspense and thralldom freed, 
His manhood wakes at last, 

And plies he hand and brain with might, 
To mend his ruthless past. 

And Providence, in years that came, 

Sent blessings rife, his way, 
With grateful heart he journeyed through, 

His free, allotted days. 



Qle^rjiYjgs Of Qdiet Poars, 



JUST HOW IT HAPPENED. 

ELL, I was at the dresser, 
A-prinking at my hair, 
When mamma bustled in, and said, 
"Luvenia, Joe's down-stair." 



w 



Of course I was all ready, 

But say girls, don't you know? 

Just not to seem too anxious, 

I poked, and came down slow. 

Well, girls! I felt so funny. 

When I came to the door; 

For Joe had on a sober look, 
I'd never seen before. 

But soon he was all smiling, 
And I felt quite at ease; 

Then girls, he caught and gave my hand, 
The cutest little squeeze. 

I sat down on the sofa, 

And Joe, — he sat so near; 
That sober look came back again, 
And girls! I did feel queer. 



<3l6ar)ir)gs Of QQiet flo6rs, 



J said, "You look so sober;" 

(For girls, that's not his way;) 

And then he laughed so odd, and said 
He'd felt blue, all that day. 

I said, "What is the matter?" 

Says he, "My heart aches so!" 

Well girls! I was so got at that, 
I only said, "Oh Joe!" 

He slipped his arms around me, 

I understood, you see, 
Now girls, what are you giggling 'bout? 

You'd kissed him too, like me! 



-8- 



Glegrjirj^s Of QCiiet |ioCirs, 



A PRAYER. 

H, LORD! I lift my heart. 
In gratitude, to Thee, 
For blessings, manifold. 

Thou hast bestowed on me. 



© 



When conflicts raged within, 
Too blinding to express, 

Thou pitied my still tongue, 

And soothed my heart to rest. 

Keep me within thy care; 

Compel me, to the right; 
'Tis sweet to walk with Thee, 

In darkness or in light. 



^9- 



(3Iear)ir)gs Of QCiiet fio6rs, 



DEATH AND RESURRECTION. 

THE PRIESTS, the elders, and the scribes, 
From council had adjourned; 
And Pilate's proffered sacrifice, 

1 he mob had promptly spurned. 

And up Golgotha's risinor slope, 

A boist'ous, cruel, band. 
With taunts, and jeers, and foul rebuke, 

Leads forth the Son of Man. 

Oh, what a scene for human eyes! 

Our Savior, bowed in grief; 
And tortured by the very ones, 

To whom He brings relief. 

Close at His side, a swarthy man. 
Beneath His cross doth bow; 

Oh Simon! Ne'er did mortal bend. 
To nobler task than thou. 

And, on the brow of Calvary, 

With scoffing, and with scorn. 

They nailed our Saviour to the cross, 
With diadem of thorn. 



■10- 



Gleor)ir)gs Of QCxiet fio6rs. 



'Tis done, and Joseph now has laid 

His body in the tomb; 
And none except the guards keep watch, 

Amid the somber gloom. 

But what can bar our holy Lord, 
Or cross his wondrous plan? 

The stronghold 'bout His lonely tomb. 
Shows unbelief of man. 

When, to the tomb, the women came, 
In grief, at break of day, 

An angel, 'mid an earthquake, vast, 
Had rolled the stone away. 

No power within this great domain, 
Can stay our mighty King; 

Oh grave, where is thy victory, 

Oh death, where is thy sting! 

Despite the grave, despite the bar, 
In triumph He hath flown. 

And sitteth on the Right of God, 
Joint-ruler of His own. 



-11- 



GIear)ir)gs Of QCilet Po6rs. 



A. 



ADIEU, ADIEU, FOREVER. 

DIEU, YOU haughty maiden! 
Proud Lydia, adieu; 

I will not tarry longer at your side; 
My heart now heavy-laden, 

With sorrows made by you, 
Never more shall thrall me or satiate your pride; 

Adieu, adieu, forever. 

Adieu, you dusky maiden, 

You crafty prude, adieu! 
No more the sport of narrow mind I'll be; 
Ne'er shall my heart awaken. 

To love strains, played by you, 
I spurn you from my heart, for a maid of small 
degree; 

Adieu, adieu, forever. 

Adieu, you heartless trifle! 
To dally with my love, 
When I humbly laid my whole heart, at your feet ; 
My very soul you'd riflle. 

Your vain heart you did prove; 
Henceforth, for nobler maidens, this outraged 
heart will seek, 

Adieu, adieu, forever. 



■12- 



Gl6ar)ir)gs Of QCiiet floars, 



T 



THE HUSBAND'S RETURN. 

HE PROUD, majestic Southern sun, 
Let fall a golden gleam; 
It flickered through a leafy bower, 
And fell aslant a traveler's brow, 

And roused him from his dream. 



A finer specimen of man, 

Was never cast in clay; 
A swarthy Hercules was he. 
With that rash intrepidity, 

Of manhood's earliest day. 

He, an emancipated slave. 

From Rappahanock's side; 
Assured by Lincoln's strong decree. 
Had journeyed southward, bold and free, 

To claim his stolen bride. 

From many a camp of Union men. 

He'd found his rations free; 
And by their kindly guiding hand. 
He now locates the plundered land. 
Where his young wife must be. 

A three hours' tramp 'cross rugged hills, 

Footsore, yet full of life; 
Now brings him to the handsome gate, 
Where flowers, bedeck a mansion great, 

The prison of his wife. 

-13- 



(3Iear)ir}gs Of Qalei fio6rs. 



And as he boldly seeks the porch, 
On entering ihrough the gate, 
The master, from his wicker chair, 
With grim forebodings, wildly glare, 
As he his errand wait. 

Advancing nearer, now at hand. 

He recognize the face, 
The same firm mouth, the flashing eye, 
The trouble wrought in days gone by, 

Comes back with no good grace. 

"Well Steve, you scoundrel, what's to pay?' 

He said, with rising fear; 
"You've run away, that is a fact, 
rU have you flogged, and shipped right 
right back. 
What do you want back here?" 

Young Stephen, to keep down his wrath, 

His strongest will employ; 
He simply says, "All slaves are free, 
The news is heard where e'er I be; 
I want my wife and boy." 

A white rage lights the planter's face, 

His oaths are fierce and wild; 
He calls on demons from below. 
To take him if a will he'd show. 
To yield the wife and child. 



-14- 



(3[ear)ii}gs Of QCilet flo6rs, 



The rash young: freed man with one boiintl, 

Had seized liis deadl}' foe, 
But Providence sent "second tliought," 
Before the murderous deed was wrought, 

He loosed his hold to go. 

There played about that swarthy youth, 

As he strode down the path, 
A threat'ning- storm from rights bereft. 
That stayed the planter's gasping breath, 
And took away his wrath. 

"Stop, Steve! where are you going now?" 

He cried with deadly fear; 
*'Come, boy, now let me hear your plan, 
Come, let us talk as man to man! 

Your wife is happy here." 

Young Stephen flung an answer back, 

With tury in his eye, 
That suddenly did take his breath, 
And paled his face, as if gfrim death 

Had dropped down from the sky. 

*'rm a-goin' to the barracks, 

An' fetch the 'blue-coats" here; 
I swear this day Fll claim my wife, 
Or you will pay it with your life, 
Long 'fore the night appear." 



-15- 



Qlear)ir)gs Of QCxiet fioQps, 



Swift to the dairy house hard by, 
A summon speeds the while; 
A slender girl, with, sweet, dark eyes, 
Comes quickly forth in glad surprise, 
Dangling a heavy child. 

Young Stephen's wrath is all forgot, 

As with a cry of joy. 
With kisses sweet and sighs of love, 
The bright sun smiling from above, 

He clasps his wife and boy. 

And, as he strained them to his breast, 

Where tumult late held sway, 
A peace suffused his storm tossed heart, 
That bade all gloomy moods depart, 
And lit with joy his way. 



-16- 



T 



<3[eai9li}gs Of Qaiel {-Io6rs. 



WHILE THE CHOIR SANG. 

HE THREAT'NING clouds of yesternight, 
Have sought the western rim ; 
The peaceful Easter sun, beams forth 
*'Glad tidings to all men." 

The festooned church is fillins^ fast; 

The frivolous, the gay, 
The saint, the sinner, mingfie free, 

On tliis triumpliant day. 

Around the altar decked with flowers, 
Each old saint takes his seat; 

The organ swells, the choir breaks forth. 
In cadence full and sweet. 

But there, amongst the aged saint, 

About the altar rail, 
A vacant seat, an absent face, 

Bespeaks the same sad tale. 

Within a humble, upper room, 

Across the street, near by, 

All weak and worn, and racked with pain, 
A faithful soldier lies. 



■17- 



Gl6ar)ir)gs Of QCiiet fioQrs, 



He's felt the galling slav'ry's yoke, 

In days now long since, fled; 

He's groaned in destitution, sore, 

And felt the need of bread. 

But through it all, with child-likefaith, \ 
He's looked up to his God ; 

And though the billows loudly roared, 
lie came across, dry-shod. 

And now, the crucial test is come, 
For Jordan's bank is near; 

He's trusted God at smaller streams. 
Canst he not trust Him here? 

The choir bursts forth in classic strains, 
The notes unto him ring; 

Though he's not trained in classic lore. 
He knows they praise his King. 

His soul hath caught the holy spell; 

Who could doubt such a King? 
His fav'rite hymn is on his lips; 

He launches, as he sings: — 



Gleanirjgs Of QCiiet fio6rs, 



■^ 'Steal away, steal away, stea! away to Jesus 
Steal away, steal away home, 
I aint got long to stay h^re.*^ 

He feels his old wife's lingering clasp^ 
He faintly hears her moan, 

For Jordan's waves break on his ear. 

And drifts him toward his home. 

The choir^ in rich crescendo strains. 

In inal triumph, chord; 
They little dreamed, 'twere theirs to launch. 

An old saint to his Lord. 



-19- 



Gle6r)ir)gs Of QQiet fioCjrs, 



UNCLE IKE'S HOLIDAY. 

^^\C^ELL UNCLE IKE! This beats me; 
V V I don't know what to say: 
Last night I took it for a joke, 
When of that odd project you spoke, 
To celebrate today." 

"I didn't take you for the man, 
Kind as I've been to you, 
To leave me in this busy time, 
Tomatoes, spoiling on my vines, 

To loaf a whole day through." 

I've corn now parching in the field; 

Potatoes yet to dig. 
Yet you can walk off in this way. 
And leave me in "a hole" all day, 

Nor do you give a fig." 

You colored folks, are cranks for sure; 

Here in this busy week, 
To stop a good job, just for fun. 
And sport around from sun to sun, — " 

"Stop right dah! Let me speak!" 

"Dis day is 'Mancipation, 

De day when God, who reigns, 
Wid Lincum fah his instrument, 
De very jaws ob Sof did rent. 

To bust de slav'ry's chains. 



-20- 



(3Iear)ir)gs Of QCiiei floors. 



' 'An' now, wid umble gratwatude, 

I's promised him fah one, 
To set aside one day each year. 
An* meet my people wid ^ood cheer, 
An* 'joice at whut He's done." 

"You say, I'se stopped in busy times, 

I answer in reply, 
De *high hoss', dat I'm on today, 
You sot astride, dis very way, 

Jest back here, in July. 

*'Yo' June grass lay cut in de field, 

De wetter looked like rain. 
An' yet you sent me right back borne, 
An' to yo' surrey hitched yo' roan. 
An' driv off jest de same." 

*'An' mind you, when I spoke to you, 

'Bout wastein' sich a day, 
*'Faw Jesus Christ I would not work, 
Doe tahment claime I me fah a shirk," 
Dem aw de words you say." 

"I won't say dat, I'll wuk fah God, 

But, mind you dis is true. 
Mo* serious time will hab to come, 
An' mighty heavy ,arg'ing done, 
Befo* I'd wuk fah you." 



-21- 



Gl€8r)ir)JJs Of QCiiet fioQrs, 



I s'pose you know whut brung^ me 'round, 

I want dat 'change', you kno w ; 
I call it wrongf to stingy be, 
Upon de day when we are free ; 
Tank you sah ; I mutit go." 



A HOME GREETING. 

PAIR of soft, black eyes, 
A velvet, dusky , cheek, 
A flash of dazzling pearls, 

An Eden for me speak. 



A 



And next a soft embrace; 

My eyes drink to their fill, 
The tender, liquid, depth. 

Of orbs that ever thrill. 

A long, ecstatic, kiss, 

That drowns all earthly strife 
What gift can e'er exceed, 

A pure, confiding, wife? 



-22- 



QlesniT^gs Of QCiiei fio6rs. 



LINES TO AN OLD SCHOOL-HOUSE. 

DEAR SCHOOL of my childhood, thrice 
dear doth thou seem, 
Now that thou shalt soon be no more; 

Oh, fresh in my memory, sweet visions gleam, 
Reflecting the bright days of yore. 

Those days when we played with our faces 
abeam, 
And manhood and womanhood, seemed but a 
dream. 

Thy grove, cool and shady, with maples o'er 
grown, 
Has sheltered us all, in the past; 
We've romped 'neath thy shadows, while bright 
years have flown, 
Too sweet and too pleasant to last. 
Dear school of my childhood, with pain in my 

heart, 
I yield to grim progress, and see thee depart. 

And all of our teachers: how bright in our mind, 

We recall every one, as they came; 
Each, like a wise monarch, unselfish and kind, 

Did make our advancement, their aim. 
Think not that the scholar, ne'er valued thy 
care; 
Thy teachings sank deeper than thou wert 
aware. 

-23- 



<31ear)Ir)gs Of Qdiet fioars, 



Thy dear grove has sheltered, when life seemed 
a care, 
And trials have clouded our way. 
And oft the young lover, and sweet maiden fair, 
Have wooed here, where once they did play. 
Oh, fresh in our memories e'er wilt thou be, 
Since the skein of our childhood is woven 
with thee! 

Dear 'Amity,' emblem of friendship's pure gold, 
We shall not bemoan thee, as past; 

E'en now, like that fabulous phoenix of old, 
F>om thy ashes, a new school looms, vast. 

More comely in structure, we view it near by. 

And hail thy successor, with pride in our eye. 

We dread not the future, oh 'Amity,' n-^w. 
What else canst thou do, but succeed; 

Thy ancestor's mantle has fallen to you, 

And wc know thou'lt supply ev'ry need. 

May thy present scholars, and those to enroll. 
Inscribe a good record, upon thy fair scroll. 



-24- 



Qleoilings Of QCiiei fIo6rs. 



THE EXAMINATION. 

[OOK here, Petah! whut's dis here, 
-5^ Dat I heard at sistah Brooks, 

'Bout you fallin' back dis year. 

In most all uv yo' school books?" 

"You think me an' pa'll work, 

Keep a lazy scamp in school, 

Jest to play, an' prink, an' shirk? 
Ef you do, you ah a fool." 

"Oh ma, Mrs, Brooks don't know, 

What I do at school each day!" 

*''Twan't her dat tole me so, 

I aint 'peatin' vvhut she say.'* 

"But I heard it, right enough, 

An' I'm b'lievin' uv it, too: 

Now, I woont Stan' no sich stuff! 

So you know whut you kin do." 

''I'm not lagging in my books! 

'Less it be my algebra: 
They told stories down to Brooks — " 

"I'm a-b'lievin' whut dey say." 



-25- 



Ql6ai}ings Of Qaiet floars. 



**Fetch dem books fum dat machine. 
An' my specks, fum off dat she'f^ 

I'll find out vvhut all dis mean, 

Gwine to test you fah myse'f. 

**Look at me^ an' look at pa! 

Nevah spent one day in school; 
Brung up undah slavery's law; 

White folks used us fah a tool." 

**But jest soon as freedom come, 

Me an' pa made up our minds» 

To take lessons fum Miss Crum^ 

An^ she said we jest did fine.'* 

"We wuked days,, and studied nights* 

Pa right here can tell de same,, 

How de lessons we would fight, 

See who'd git the biggest uame. 

"Doe pa now won'^t have it sOj, 

'Tis de fac^ jes^ ax Miss Jane: 
I wus fust, — • whether or no, 

Kase I had de strongest brain/^ 



16- 



GIear)ir)gs Of QCxiei |^o6rs. 



**Sakes o' life, ma! how you *b!ovv/ 

Kase I once misspelled 'employ,' 

Look here Cindy, don't you knov*'? — ' 
*'Oh, heshllel me test dis boy." 

**VVhul's dis book you's gibbin' me? 

'Spose I keer for allerbay? 
A, b, c, and x, y, z; 

Here, boy, put dis book away!" 

**Learned my letters lonsf ago, 

And I thought you did de same; 
Dese new schools beat all I know! 
Don't know you or dem to blame." 

*'Bring dat spellin' book to me! 

You don't use dat book no mo*? 
*Spcc you ought now, we will see; 

Take yo' place tha' by de do.'" 

"Now Pete spell me 'domineer; 

Right; now spell me 'gasoline;' 
Dey's *too easy' do I hear? 

Never mind, now spell 'machine!" 



-27- 



Gle3r)ings Of Qdiei fio6r3, 



'Mancipate',(set free, to fly;) 

Once I craved dat soon an' late: 
*M-a-n — c-i si man — ci, 

P-a-t-e, 'Man-ci pate'. 

'*E' cums fus instid uv 'M', 

Dis here spellin' will not do!'' 

"Dat's de way you spoke it to'im, 

Dat boy's jest as right as you.'* 

"Pa, I wush you'd shet yo' mouf, 
An' quit takin' on, so mean, 

Now den, Petah, spell me Souf; 

Right, — now spell fah 'me, 'ravene' " 

*'VVrong! I knowed you'd miss a sight; 

Dat new's straight, I got at Brooks; 
*'Ma, I know I spelt that right!" 

"Aint I lookin' on de book?" 

*'Like as not, de boy is right, 

Cindy, let me see dat word ; 

Dat word's 'raven' — Sakes o' life! 

Kyah! kyah ! kyah! you is a bird.'* 



-28- 



Gle^YjlrjQs Of Qaiet [io6rs, 



*'Oh shet up! an' act wid sense! 

Ain't gwine test Pete any mo'; 
You k no wed whetg I fus' commence, 

Dat my eyes wus dim an' 50/* 

*'Dat's why I bought dem j^old specks, 
Dat you made de man take back; 

You wont ha-ve me kere to vea:, 

Always., wid yo' spite an' slack.." 

"'B'lieve Lucindy^s gwine to cry; 

Kyah! kyali! kyah ! she is a birdi 
Makin' out she^s gwine to die, 

'Case sh-e Fsaispernounced dat word.* 



-29- 



Qlear)ir)gs Of Qaiet tioQrs. 



T 



A CHRISTMAS GHOST. 

HE EVE of Christmas had arrived ; 
The children were in bed, 
The clock upon the mantel, chimed 
The half-hours as they fled. 



Aunt Lucy tip-toed 'bout her work; 

For work she had to do; 
I've never seen a Christmas eve 

Bring aught but work, — have you? 

And so Aunt Lucy tip-toed 'bout, 
With heart expectant, light, 

*'Twould be a shame to wake the babes, 
With Santa mos' in sight." 

But all at once Aunt Lucy stopped ; 

"Laws! Whut's dat thumpin' noise?" 
She had good reason to believe, 

It wasn't Santa Claus. 

And yet, five minutes back, had she 
Not seen on pillows white, 

Four little cherubs, wrapped in sleep, 
Most pleasing to the sight? 



-30- 



GIeQi}Ir7gs Of Qdiet fIo6rs, 



With bus}'' hands and lieavy step, 

Aunt Lucy fairly flew; 
Admitting that they were awake. 

She had her work to do. 

Next, calls she stern, behind closed door, 
(Too busy to pass through,) 

"'Now, whut's dat thumpin' sound I hear? 
Paul Peters, is dat you?" 

"'Phil, Joe, an' Babe, I know is sleep. 
An' you, too, ought to be, 

Ef you don't git back in dat bed, 
I'll lay you 'cross my knee!" 

*'But mamma, Santa Clans is corae! 

I seed him pattin' Ring, 
He's come an' fetched his wife along, — " 

"He aint cum, no sich thing!'' 

"^'But ma, he had a dreat big sack, 
They did'nt make no noise. 

An' when he set it down, to rest, 
He kissed Miss Santa Glaus,'' 



-31' 



(3l68r)ir)gs Of Qalet floars. 



"You hesh yo^ mouf, an' git to bed I 
Don't b'lieve a word you say; 

Fah none has come into this house, 
But Sis an' mister Clay." 

*'Nobody axed you whut you seed, 

All bad boys see a sight; 
You git in bed, or you will see, 
A whoopin' 'fore 'tis light. 

So guilty Paul crept back to bed, 
Most miserable of boys, 

For fear she'd tell old Santa Claus, 
And forfeit him his toys. 

Yet mamma never "peached" on him^ 
For Santa brought a host; 

And so he solved the myst'ry thus: 
He merely saw a ghost. 



-32- 



Ql6ar)ir)gs Of QCxiet floars, 



© 



A VALENTINE. 

UT of the depths of a heart of love. 
Out of the birth-place of sighs, 
Freighted with hope and freighted with fear, 
My all in a valentine, hies. 
Oh, frail little missive 

Of delicate texture, 
Speed thee, on thy journey, 
And give her a lecture! 

Fathom her heart, that seems to me, cold, 

Trouble her bosom, as mine, 
Let it be mutual, this that I crave, 
Her 'yes' for a valentine. 
Oh, frail little missive. 

In coy Cupid's keeping^, 
Oh ! speed back a message. 
To set my pulse leaping. 



-33- 



GIear)ir)3s Of QCxiet fio6rs, 



A TRIBUTE TO THE BRIDE AND GROOM. 

DEAR friends, we are gathered together, 
With innocent hearts, that are light; 
Each face is abeam, and meet doth it seem, 

As there is a wedding tonight. 
A wedding! with love and peace in full bloom; 
And a sweet, comely, bride and an exquisite 
groom. 

Dear friends, we are gathered together. 

And happiness leads us tonight; 
We follow her star, with nothing to mar. 

Through the sweet, dreamy whirl of delight; 
And we (eel our hearts throb and swell for the 

room. 
To encompass our hopes, for the sweet bride 

and groom. 

May this night's love and contentment, 

For the happy pair, prove to be, 
A nucleus e'er, to enlarge with each year, 

As their barque drifts out, in life's sea: 
And we wish them many returns of the day, 
With peace, love, and happiness, as only 

friends may. 

Should sorrows e'er darken their pathway, 
As oft in our lives, sorrows will, 
May they turn to the One, to whom millions 
have come, 

-34- 



Gle9r)ir)gs Of Qaiet floars. 



And each heard Hi? sweet words, *'Be still." 
And may His blest Presence, forever find room, 
In the pure, sweet, abode of the bride and the 
groom. 



•T 



EMANCIPATION. 

IS a time for much rejoicing; 

Let each heart be lured away; 
Let each tone^ue, its thanks be voicing 

For Emancipation Day. 
Day of victory, day of glory, 
For thee, many a field was gory! 

Many a time in days now ended, 

Hath our fathers' courage failed, 

Patiently their tears tbev blended; 

Ne'er they to their, Maker, railed; 

Well we know their groans, He numbered, 

When dominions fell, asundered. 

As of old the Red Sea parted, 

And oppressed passed safely through, 
Back from North, the bold South, started, 

And a fissure wide she drew; 
Drew a cleft of Liberty, 
Through it, marched our people free. 



-35- 



Gleanii^Ss Of QCilet fioCirs. 



And, in memory, ever grateful, 

Of the day they reached the shore, 
Meet we now, with hearts e'er faithful, 

Joyous that the storm is o'er. 
Storm of Torture! May grim Past, 
Hurl thee down his torrents fast. 

Bring your harpers, bring your sages, 
Bid each one the story tell; 

Waft it on to future ages. 

Bid descendants learn it well. 

Kept it bright in minds now tender, 

Teach the young their thanks to render. 

Come with hearts all firm united, 

In the union of a race; 
With your loyalty well plighted, 

Look your brother in the face. 
Stand by him, forsake him never, 
God is wHh us now, forever. 



-36- 



Glear)ir)gs Of QCxiei {iodrs. 



TO A DECEASED FRIEND. 

WRITTEN IN MEMORY OF MR?. POLLY DIXON. 



THE veil of death hath fallen, 
Loved one 'twixt thee and me; 
Thou art now among the chosen of the Lord; 
With heavenly saints immortal, 
Enrobed in sanctity, 
Thou art chanting with the blest, in sweet accord. 

Oh, ever bright thy image, 

Is pictured in my heart. 
Though autumn after autumn now hath flown; 
Bat memories still steal o'er me, 

In which thou hast a part, 
And I sometimes yearn to rob Death of his own. 

Well didst thou keep the promise. 

My dying mother craved: 
That thou shouldst ever guard her orphan brood; 
Oh, blessed foster-mother! 

Thy tenderest love, thou gav'st; 
And thou ever taught me lessons, pure and good. 



-37- 



Gl65r)ir)gs Of QCiiet Jio6rs. 



Oh Death! why rob so early? 

Why snatched thou her, from me, 
When I, in wane of childhood, cr.ived her most? 
If longer thou hadst spared her, 
I could uniyrude:ingly, 
Permitted her, to be unto me lost. 

Oh, many times in blindness, 

Have I stumbled ms I tread, 
The rugged old road, which to me is new; 

And I miss thy warm hand's pressure, 
And I grieve that thou art dead; 
While sad, regretful, tears, mine eyes bedew. 

But sleep, beloved mother, 

Why shouldst I grudge thy rest? 
For thou indeed, hast done the 'better part;' 
A mother to the orphan, 
Of wives the true and best, 
My inmost self, can yield thee, with glad heart. 



-"38- 



<3lG3r)ings Of QCxiet tioQrs. 



AN AFTERNOON GOSSIP. 

IS that you sistah Harris? 
I knowed you when you knocked; 
Jest keep right on a-pushing. 
The ole dooi isn't locked! 

Ole white man's been forgetting, 
Each day since first I sent; 

Fle's got a pow'ful mem'ry. 

When comes the time for rent. 

Now, sit down;Whut's your hurry? 

You have no work to do; 
I'm mos' done pvith my i'ning; 

You always beats me through. 

You aint no bother to me! 

Jest sit here where its cool; 
Hush fretting 'bout them child'en ! 

You know they^re safe in school 

Now, whut's the news, Amanda? 

Hearn some 'bout Flora Ann; 
Jest take this little rocker, 

And reach that pa'm leaf fan. 



-39- 



Gl€ar)ir)gs Of Qaiet fioCirs, 



I hearn she's gone and married, 
That trifling Louis Bird; 

Says I to Abe this mo'nin', 

Don't brieve a single word. 

Hush woman ! Whut's you savin'? 

How can tliat news be true? 
Flo Ann wus sot on Jasper, 

She never keered for Lou. 

Well people! Don't that beat you? 

Gone married Lou fo' spite; 
The Lo'd have mussy on her! 

She's trapped herse'f for life. 

Guess what ole Jeems been doin'? 

Can't guess to save my life; 
Aint took a crazy notion, 

To git another wife? 

Fo' land-sakes! sister Harris, 

Ha! ha! ha! aint I beat? 

That man's jest buyin' hosses 

Fo' crows an' dogs to eat. 



-40- 



QlGar)ir)gs Of QQiet Ii[o6rs. 



Now, you know well as I do, 

He loses ev'ry one: 
They're lialf dead when he gets tliem ; 

I 'spect he thinks it's fun. 

'Twus jest a week last Tuesday; 

Abe made me break my side, 
Telling how the marshal fined him. 

For half bur'ing one that died. 

I beam 'bout Sister Curtley? 

Why Sistah Harris, no! 
Fell down and broke her ankle? 

Good Lo'd ! You don't say so? 

Fell down them ole back do' steps! 

She told me they wus broke; 
Ole Smith put off the fixing: 

I'd make that white man smoke! 

I must git round and see her; 

Hope God will bring her through; 
We must pray for her, Mandy, 

And see whut we can do. 



41- 



Qle^V^rjQs Of QCiiet fioCirs, 



Wc must not shirk our duty, 

And linger in the hirch, 
But help, in tribulations, 

A sistah in thie church. 

You say you're feeling poorly? 

Then course you couldn't go; 
Yes, Sistah Riley told me, 

That you wus feeling slow. 

Now hush your 'pologizing! 

I know your heart is true; 
Whut sistah did more shouting, 

Last 'vival time than you? 

You wa'n't out to meeting, 

When they 'churched' Riah Brown? 
You'd broke your sides a-laughing, 

How Elder called him down. 

The Elder riz and asked him, 
To take a seat in front; 

So, up the aisle he shuffled, 

And sot down, with a grunt. 

Then, spoke up Elder Mitchell, 

"Now, whut have you to say? 

You know the charge against you, 
For the evil of your way. 



42- 



GIegir)ir)gs Of QCxiei fioQrs, 



**You've walked the way of sinnahs, 

Used church funds for your j?ain, 

And when 'cused by Deacon Riley, 

Took the name of God, in vain." 

Ef evah in your lifetime, 

You've seen a good whooped hound, 
With head and tail a-draggin^j^, 

You th«in saw Riah Brown. 

*'And therefore," said the elder. 

His voice wus loud and stout; 

*'We want no wolves among us; 
I move to turn you out." 

Poor sistah Brown wus crying, 

Riah wus sniffling too; 
Yet seemed no sad occasion, 

Jest spite of all I'd do. 

I know 'twa'n't like no christain, 

The feeling that I had, 
For ev'ry where around me, 

The sistahs looked so sad. 

But 'pon my word, Amanda, 

Since my eyes first saw light; 

I never felt more tickled. 

Than I did Tuesday night. 

-43- 



QIear)ir)9s Of QCiiet J1o6rs. 



Then Riah says a sniffin', 

"I did do whut you say, 

But bred'ren 'twas ole Satan, 

That coaxed me from the way.' 

You could a hearn a pin drop, 

When he commenced to say, — 

"I'm but a umble critter; — " 

Laws, listen! Is that May?" 

Laws, honey! here's the child'en, 

School caint be out so soon; 
Ef ever time went flyin'. 

It did this afternoon. 

That's right, I didn't finish, 

Well, I wus most nigh through^ 
You'll hear the rest tomorrow? 

I dont keer ef you do. 

All right, tomorrow, Mandy, 

I'm mighty gled you come; 

Now, don't fret 'bout tliem child'en. 
You'll find them safe at home. 

And say, oh Sistah Harris! 

Tomorrow, when you come, 
Please tell old Mr. Bailey, 

To send Abe's hatchet home. 



44- 



Qle9r)ings Of QCiiei I1o6rs, 



THE MUSE'S FAVOR. 

H MUSE! I crave a favor, 

Grant but this one unto me; 
Thou hast always been indulgent, 

So I boldly come to thee. 



© 



For oft I list thy singing, 

And the accents, sweet and clear, 
Like the rhythmic flow of waters, 

Falls on my ecstatic ear. 

But of Caucasia's daughters, 
So oft I've heard thy lay, 

That the music, too familiar, 
Falls in sheer monotony. 

And now, oh Muse exalted ! 

Exchange this old song staid, 
For an equally deserving: — 

The oft slighted, Afric maid. 

The muse, with smiles, consenting, 

Runs her hand the strings along, 
And the harp, as bound by duty. 
Rings out with the tardy song. 

-45- 



Gle^nii^gs Of QQiet Jio6rs. 



The Song. 

Oh, foully slighted Ethiope maid! 
With patience, bearing rude upbraid. 
With sweet, refined, retiring, grace. 
And sunshine lingering in thy face, 
With eyes bedewed and pityingly, 
I sing of thee, I sing of thee. 

Thy dark and misty curly hair, 

In small, neat, braids entwineth fair. 

Like clusters of rich, shining, jet, 

All wrapt in mist, when sun is set; 

Fair maid, I gaze admiringly, 

And sing of thee, and sing of thee„ 

Thy smooth and silky, dusky skin. 
Thine eyes of sloe, thy dimple chin^ 
That pure and simple heart of thine^ 
*Tis these that make thee half divine; 
Oh maid f I gaze admiringly. 
And sing of thee, and sing of thee 



46- 



Glegninfls Of QCiist PoQrs, 



Oh modest maid, with beauty rare. 
Whoe'er hath praised thy lithe form, fair? 
Thy tender mien, thy fairy tread, 
Thy winsome face and queenly head? 
Naught of thy due in verse I see, 
All pityingly I sing of thee. 

Who's dared to laud thee 'fore the world, 
And face the stigma of a churl? 
Or brook the fiery, deep, disdain, 
Their portion, who defend thy name? 
Oh maiden, wronged so cowardly, 
I boldly, loudly, sing of thee. 

Who've stood the test of chastity. 

Through slavery's blasting tyranny. 

And kept the while, their virtuous grace, 

To instill in a trampled race? 

Fair maid, thy equal few may see; 

Thrice honored I, to sing of thee. 



-47- 



(3l6ar)ir)gs Of QCiiei floQrs, 



Let cowards fear thy name to praise, 

Let scoffers seek thee but to raze; 

Despite their foul, ignoble, jeers, 

A worthy model thou appear. 

Enrobed in love and purity; 

Oh, who dare blush, to sing of thee? 

And now, oh maid, forgive I pray, 
The tardiness of my poor lay; 
The weight of wrongs unto thee done, 
Did paralize My faltering tongue; 
»Twas my mute, innate, sympathy, 
That staid this song, I sing of thee. 



-48- 



QIe5nir)gs Of QCiiet fioCirs, 



THE FAVORITE SLAVE'S STORY. 

ELL, son de story of my life, 

Is long, and full of shade; 

And yet, the bright spots, here and tha, 

A heap of comforts made. 



\t 



When fust my eyes beheld de light, 
'Twas on a Chris'mus day; 

'Twelve miles fum Richmond "on a fa'm,** 
As you young upsta'ts say. 

We said * 'plantation" in de South, 

We black, and white folks too; 

We wa'n't a changin' ev'ry day, 

Like all you young folks do. 

My mother cooked de white-folks grub, 

Dat's all she had to do, 
Ole Miss, she spike her half to death, 

And spilte her young ones, too. 

Fah, well I mind me, in dem days, 
How I and Sue and Pete, 

Would roll around Miss Nancy's cheer, 
And play about her feet. 

-49- 



G learnings Of QCiiet Po6rs, 



Miss Nancy, ^ I kin hear her yet — 

'You Petah, Sue, an' Si! 
I'll make yo' niaustah wiioop you slio!" 

(VVid laughtah in her eye.) 

Ole mause, he'd whoop us soon as not; 

But, when ^1i^s Nancy stw, 
She'd run out, wid dat U)()k, an' say, 

'I wouldn't whoop him, Pa.' 

One day, — I nevah kin fahgit, 

Ole Miss wus sick in bed; 

Ole Mause, he ripped, an' cussed, an' to', 
An' made himself a dread. 

Somehow, I can't tell how it wus, 
He slapped my sistah Sue, 

And mammy, coase she took it up, 
Den dah wus heap to do. 

Pete lit right in wid tooth and claw. 

And so did little sis, 
Fah me, I had anoihah plan, 

I flew upstairs fah Miss. 



-SO- 



Gleanings Of QCxiei flo6rs. 



I met Miss Nancy on de stairs. 

Wrapped in a great big shawl, 

An* comin' down de steps so fast, 
Jest seemed as ef she'd fall. 

I tried to tell her Svhut wus up,' 
She pushed me on bcfo*, 

Fah mammy's cries wus in her yeahs, 
An' she heard nothin' mo'. 

She caught ole Mause, an' pulled him off; 

Her eyes dey fa'ly blazed; 
Ole Mause commenced a silly grin, 
An* looked like he wus dazed. 

I'd nevah seed Miss Nancy mad. 

Good Lo'd ! She fussed an* to*e; 
She *raked ole Maustah o*er de coals*, 

Until he beg)^ed an' swo'. 

She wouldn't 'low Maria whoopeJ, 

She jest would leave de place, 

An* take 'way ev'ry slave she brought! 
She jest r'ared in his face. 



-51 



GIear)ir)gs Of Qaiet fioars. 



She wouldn't 'low Maria whooped, 

Jest leave her young ones be! 

They nevah sassed h '.r w!ien she spi^ke, 
It wasn't dem, 'twas he! 

He tried to coax her back to bed, 
But, Lo'ci!She wouldn't go: 

*Whut time had she to stay upstairs 
When he would take on so?' 

An' Mammy, she wus cryin' loud ; 

(De whonpin' wus her fus,) 
An', whut wid little sistah Sue, 

It made Miss Nancy wus. 

She'd fuss all round ihout Ole Mause, 

Jest like a spunky hen; 
SheM pat my mothah on de back, 

An' den begin* again. 

Well son, she p'intly made things wi'm, 
F'ah Ole Mause whined an' swo'; 

No mattah how we all took on. 
He'd whoop none uv us mo\ 



»-52- 



Gleanings Of QCiiet {io6ps, 



**Maria, take yo' Miss upstairs!" 

He'd wring his hands an* say; 

Miss Nancv'd stamp her foot an' scream» 
She'd stay right tha' all day. 

Well, when she'd fussed plum out uv bref, 

To add to his ai^'ms, 
She jest *keeled' ovah in a faint, 

An* fell into his a'ms. 

Well, son, tha wus anothah stir; 

We young ones tliougfht her dead: 
Ole Mause, I b'lieve, he thought so too, 

Fah he plum lost his head. 

Ole Miss wus sick fah quite a spell, 

An' mad right thue it all; 
Fah when ole Mause cumed grinnin* roun\ 
She'd turn an' face de wall. 

So things went on, until one day, 
He axed her, how she felt. 

She reached out wid her ole time smile, 
So he cumed tha an' knell. 



-53- 



GIe9nir)gs Of QCiiet fioars, 



Dey made it up, right dah an* den, 

An' as de day was fa', 
He took her up into his a'ms, 

An' brung her down de sta'. 

An* aftah dat, I tell you, son, 
Ole Mause, he let us be. 

An* doe he slashed de othah slaves, 
Pete, Sue, an' me went free. 

An' so de time went spiniiin' on, 
VVid not a keer nor plan; 

I didn't know whut trouble wus, 
Till I wus nigh a man, 

Ole Fairfax owned my fathah, Fon, 
Dey lived across de creek, 

De white folks aPays let him come, 
Three nights in ev'ry week. 

Of coase he had his Sundays, too. 
Great days dey use to be, 

Fah all de blessed day hcM have, 
We young ones, bout his knee. 



-54- 



Gl6ar)ir)gs Of Qaiet t^oars. 



Or else, he'd take us all to church, 
All breshed up neat an' new, 

Wid Mammy hanging to his arm, 
An' leading little Sue. 

An' Mammy's eyes 'ud be so bright, 

When she had Pappy near; 
She'd laugh an' giggle like a gal, 

But tryin' times drawed near. 

Ole Mause an' Fairfax wus fast friends; 

A pa' uv roscals day ; 
In gambiin', cheatin', an' de like, 

Dey bofe had heap to say. 

So bofe got mixed up in a scrape, 
Wid Richmond's bank, an' den, 

Dey bofe sold ev'ry slave dey had, 
To keep out uv de pen. 

I tell you son de good white-folks, 

Wus good in time uv ease; 
But soon as hawd times cummed tha' way, 

Dey'd change, ''quick as you please. 



-S5- 



Glearjipgs Of Qaiet t^oars. 



Soon as Miss Nancy seed de trap, 

Ole Mause had done walked in, 

She changed right dah, an who but she! 
A-helpin' him to sin. 

Dey talked an' planned togethah, long; 

An', as de days flew by, 
Miss Nancy chang^ed an* got so cross, 

Dat Mammy use to cry. 

One mawnin', jest to pick a fuss, 
She said she missed a pie; 

When Mammy said dey all wus tha, 
She said, she told a lie. 

*Dat pie wus in her cabin, hid; 

She wus a vixen, bold; 
An* ef she didn't bring it back, 

She'd have her whooped an' sold.* 

Well, son, you see dat wus her scheme, 

To sell her, wid de rest ; 
An* aftah dat, she made it plain, 

To all uv us, I *fess. 



-56- 



Glear)ir)gs Of QCxiet fIo6rs. 



An' so, at last, de day rolled 'round, 

When all, exceptin' I, 
Wus put upon de block an' sold, 

To any one who'd buy. 

Oh, son! You don't know whut it is, 
To see yo' loved ones sold, 

An' hear de groans, an* see de tears, 
Uv young, as well as ole. 

An' see dem white men bus'lin 'roun', 

A-feelin' uv yo' a'm. 
An' havin' you to run an' skip, 

An' caper till you's wa'm. 

An' all de while, wid questions,keen, 
An' wid a watcthful eye, 

Not keerin' how yo' h'a't might ache, 
Jest so you's strong an', spry. 

Po* Mammy! How kin I fahgit, 
Her pa'tin* from us all? 

Dat pa'tin', son, will 'bide wid me, 
Until de Lo'd will call! 



-57- 



(3l6ar)ir)gs Of Qdiet floCirs, 



*Way down de rivah, she wus sold, 
Alone, wid no kin nigh; 

Her tendah h'a't broke 'fo' she left, 
I know she's long on High. 

An' Pappy, Pete, an' little Sue, 

Wus sent their dif'rent ways, 

An' not one has my eyes beheld, 
Since dem sad, pa'tin', days. 

Oh son, you don't know how I felt. 
When all dat stir wus past! 

Sometimes I'd git to grievin' so, 
I thought I couldn't last. 

De empty cabins all aroun', 

De stables empty, too. 
Miss Nancy, cryin* day an* night 

Ole Mause a-lookin' blue. 

I tell you son, dem tryin'days, 
Aw burnt into my soul: 

I feel de pain, I see it all, 
Same as dem days uv old. 



-58- 



Gle5r)ir)gs Of QOiet Jio6rs. 



Ah well! De sun will sometimes shine, 

E'en in a po' slave's life; 
De Lo'd healed up my broken h'a't, 

By sendin' me a wife. 

Miss Nancy wus as good to her. 

An' spilte her jest as bad. 
As she did mammy long befo', 

Sometimes it made me sad. 

Ole Mause had prospered, bought mo* slaves, 

Ole Miss wus sweet an' kind, 
My little ones an' Charlotte dear. 

Had pushed my grief behind. 

I al'ays wus Miss Nancy's pet, 

She made it very plain; 
An* I must say, in all my grief, 

She tried to ease my pain. 

An' now, dat I wus gay once mo*, 

An* happy as could be. 
She petted Charlotte an* my chaps, 

An' seemed as pleased as me. 



-59- 



Gl€ar)ir)gs Of QCilei fIo6rs, 



So lime sped on widout a keer, 

Save whut had lon^j^ since past, 

Till Ole Mause's health begin to fail, 
An' son, he went down fast. 

He took on scanMous in dem days, 
When he saw death wus nigh, 

He cussed an' to' from mawn till night, 
It made Miss Nancy cry. 

He nevah had been conquered, son. 

By any living thing. 
So, when grim Death lay hold uv him. 

He fit ha'd, 'gainst de sting. 

But, son, at last he'd found his match, 

Fah spite uv all his rage, 
Ole Satan flung his fi'ry hook, 

An' pulled him in his cage. 

You nevah seed a sinnah die, 

So son you jest don't know; 

You could 've heard Ole Maustah cuss, 
Fuh half a mile or mo'. 



=60« 



Qlear)ir)gs Of QCilet Jioars. 



He axed me fuh a class uv gin. 

He jest wus crazy mrd, 
He bit de rim from off de glass, 

An' spit it on de bed. 

An' den he yelled, "Look at him, Si! 

"Drive that black dog away! 
He's snapping at my throat, you see, 

Ketch hold his chain, I say!" 

He would 've spruno^ plum out de bed, 

Had r not held him in, 
Den, wid a long an' doleful yell, 

He died in all his sin. 

De wah, dat had been grumblin' roun', 
Broke full about dis time, 

De slaves begun a-walkin' off, 

To suit their own free mind. 

Ole Miss wus cryin' day an* night, 

An' beggin' me to stay, 
While Charlotte urged me, on de sly, 

To go North, fah away. 



-61- 



Gl€5r)ir}9s Of QCxiet {loQrs, 



I looked into her plead in' e5'es, 

So helpless, trustiu' me, 
An' den, upon my little chaps, 

An' manhood said, "Be free!* 

Ole Missus cumed down to de gate; 

To bid f ah well she tried, 
But she jest held fast bofe our hands, 

An' cried, an' cried, an' cried. 

An' so we cumed up to dis state, 
An* worked on, bes' we could, 

A-trustin* al'ays in de Lo'd, 
An' tryin' to be good. 

We raised our chaps, dey all done well, 
An' now have settled down, 

Exceptin* Jane, our baby gal, 
Who you aw co'ting now. 

You say, you want her fah yo' wife? 

I know, uv co'se you do; 
I give consent, fah son you see, 

! al'ays did like you. 



-62- 



Gleanings Of Q(i\ei lioCivs, 



Dat lifts a burden from my mind, 
You're young, an* good, an' true. 

We've lived to see our othahs thrive, 
We want Jane settled, too. 

Take good keer uv our baby, son, 

A tendcih child she be, 
Why, look! Here she au' Charlotte comes; 

She's told her Ma you see. 



THE INTERRUPTED REPROOF. 

ELLA WHEELER! did I evah? 

Playing with yo' ole dollb;Well! 
Great, big gal, here, tall as mammy, 
Big a baby as Estelle! 



.63- 



Glecinings Of Qaiet floars. 



I'll tell daddy, Miss, this eb'nin', 

And he'll pleg yo' life out sho'; 

Great big gal, with beaux a-comin', 
Crawlin' 'round heah on the flo' ! 

Sunday noon, gwine tell the Elder; 

Sunday night, I'm gwine tell El; 
Needn't come heah tryiii' to hug me! 

You caint coax it out my head. 

Yo* ole mammy's not gwine keep it, 

Ed's gwine 'o hear it sho's you bo'n ; 

Shame on you! An' Ed a co'ting. 
Playing dolls heah all the mo'n. 

Them's yo* dolls! Think I don't know them, 

When I bought them all myse'l? 
Needn't try, caint fool yo' mammy. 

Them's Estellc's tha on the shef. 

Gwine tell Ed, and gwine tell daddy, 

What's that noise! Who's that out tha'? 

Give me them dolls, Lawd, here's Eddie! 
Mussy sakes! Go bresh yo' ha' 



-64- 



Gleanings Of Qaiet floCirs, 



FREEDOM AT McNEALY'S. 

LL around old Chattanooga, 

War had left his wasteful trace; 
And tiie rebels, quelled and baffled, 
Freed reluctantly their slaves. 



A 



On his spacious, cool, veranda — 

Stood McNealy, gaunt and tall. 

With bowed head, and long arms folded, 
Pondering on his blacks, enthralled. 

Years, and years, he'd been their master, 

H<irsh and stern his reign had been; 

Many an undeserving lashing. 

He had rudely given them. 

All his life he*d been a despot; 

Ruling all with iron hand; 
Never till this deadly conflict, 

Had he e'er brooked one command. 

But his lately rich plantation, 

Sacked by Union men he see; 

And the bitter dregs stand waiting: 

He must set his bondmen free. 



■65- 



Gle©r)ir)gs Of Qaiet {ioars, 



From their work, they come together, 
At their master's last command, 

And at length, well-nigh two hundred, 
'Fore the large veranda stand. 

Oh! that motley crowd before him, 

Speaks the wrong one man has done; 

For his constant, dire oppression, 
Can be seen on every one. 

Men of middle age all palsied, 

By hard work and sorrow's pain, 

Blighted youths and orphaned infants; 
All had felt his cruel reign. 

There were women fair, who knew him. 
To be more of brute than man; 

There were children clinging to them. 

Through whose veins his own blood ran, 

Widowed hearts in swarthy bosoms, 

Ever bled in patient pain, 
O'er their loved ones, sold before them, 

To increase McNealy's gain. 



-66- 



Gleanings Of QCxiet Jioars. 



All of this preys on McNealy, 

As before his slaves he stands; 

And his 1 nv'ring^, <^f^Rg''f^t expression, 

Speaks the power that's left his hands. 

And, with quivering voice and husky, 
Tells he that each one is free; 

Tells them of his heavy losses. 
Meanly seeking sympathy. 

And the soft hearts of his vassals, 

Melt, as only Ethiopes' can; 
As with brimming eyes and kind words, 

Each one grasps his tyrant's hand. 

One by one, they've all departed; 

Man and woman, boy and girl; 
Void of learning, inexperienced. 

Launched upon the crafty world. 

But one cabin is not empty. 

Two old souls are kneeling there; 

In the throes of desolation, 

They have sought their Lord in prayer. 



67- 



Glespiofls Of Qaiet Jioars, 



They have never tasted freedom, 

And their youthful hopes are fled ; 

Now, the freedom they are seeking, 
Is with Jesus, and the dead. 

Poor aunt Jude and uncle Simon! 

Freedom brings to them, no cheer; 
They have served McNcaly's fam'ly, 

For three-score or more, of years. 

Steep and rough, the road the*ve traveled, 
Many were their heari felt groans, 

Yet they cleave unto their tyrant, 

For his lash, is all they've known. 

Like a bird of long confinement. 
Cleaves unto his open cage, 

These two wretched slaves, benighted. 
Clave to bondage, in their age. 

And they sought McNealy humbly. 

With their hearts filled to the brim; 

Told him, all their days remaining. 
They would gladly give to him. 



68^ 



Gleanings Of Qaiet flo6ps. 



And Mc Nealy, pleased and flattered, 
With no feeling ef remorse, 

Takes them back into his service. 
As you would a faithful horse. 



ADOVVN THE HEIGHTS OF AGES 

A DOWN the heights of Ages, 
Where mist oft dims the view, 
Where blinding chaos rages. 

Whilst sweet peace mingles, too, 
A caravan t*er moves along, 

A fast increasing, fitful throng, 
To whom we've said adieu. 



~6^ 



Ql€ai)ii}0s Of Qaiei floars. 



Oft, through the mist, scclusive. 

Familiar forms, appear; 
And from their realm, t-xclusive, 

Their joys and griefs, we hear; 
A bright ray, oft, lights up the mist. 
And flash us back a loving kisi; 

Or counsel pre hold dear. 

And often, in the young night. 

When memories, beguile. 
We drift behind the foot-lights. 

And play with them awhile; 
'Tis then we press that hand, again. 
And hear that voice, that ihrills to pain, 

And drink again that smile. 

Then stroll we through the wild wood, 
Down to the meadow brook, 

And with the joy of childhood. 
We ply our fishing hook; 

Or, in the country school, once more, 

We take our places, **on the floor,** 
Intent with slate and book. 



=70-» 



Ql6ai}ir)gs Of Qaiet Jloars. 



Or else, with joy and laughter. 

We join the social feast, 
Which brings the smile long after, 

The hour of mirth has ceased; 
We catch those love-lit eyes, as bright, 
As e'er they shone that long fled night, 

And feel our glad heart leap. 

And so we drift, forgetful, 

Of all except the past, 
*Til with a start, regretful. 

We find ourselves, at last; 
The drama fades before our eye; 
Wc yield our loved ont s, with a sigh, 

Back, to relentless past. 

Thus down the heights of Ages, 
A mere yote in the throng, 

All that our life engages, 
Moves speedily, along; 

Small, small, inleed, the part we play, 

The hiur glass wastes the sand away, 
Ere half is sung, Life's song. 



^71- 



<3l€or)ii)gs Of Qaiet JioCiPS, 



AFTER THE QUARREL. 

T INDIE, chi1^ fo* Lawd saVe, tell me 
IsO Wriut's come ovah you an* Link? 
Mos* fo' weeks since he's called on you, 
Time he's comin* back, I think. 

Tain't no use to crv now, Honey, 
Mussy!how de chile takes on! 

Mammy knows well how yo' hVt aches, 
Done fell all, chile, lo' you's bo'n. 

Felt dat, when yo' Pa wus co*tin ;• 
Lawd! Ive fell it day on day! 

Honey, Sugah, hesh yo'cryin!* 

Can't make out a word you say. 

Oh, I see! Link's done got jealous! 

Didn't I say it wan'i so sma't, 
Prancin* round, wid Elex Johnson, 

When yon know, Link's got yo* h'a't. 



.72* 



Ql6ai)ii)gs Of Qaiet Jloars, 



I go tell him dat you love him? 

Lindie, ain't you g:om* mcd? 
Tink yo* MammyM stoop to dat trick, 

Tmk Vd frow you at his head? 

Wha's de dignity I taught you, 

Wliile you gruwed up by my side? 

Didn't mean it? Dat sound bettah, 
Knowed you had Virginia, pride. 

Honey, chilr, yo' Ma feels fo' you, 
Hesh yo' cryin', brace up prim. 

Don't you know dat L'nk is grievin' 
Much fo' you as you to* him? 

Yes indeed ! Link's not fo'got you, 

He'll quit pouiin' by an' by, 
D "n he'll love you mo'en evah, 

'Twas dat way wid Pa an' I. 

Dah, you laugh; dat's bettah, Honey, 

Bui now mind, whcMi Link comes back, 

You leave Elex to Lize Posten, 
An' jest trot on yo* own track. 



73- 



ei€(?ii)io9s Of QCxiet tioars. 



SONG OF THE MOON. 

®H, a hidden power is in my breast, 
A power that none can fathom; 
I call the tides from seas of rest, 
They rise, they fall, at my behest; 
And many a tardy fisher'i* boat, 
I've torn apart and set afloat. 

From out their raging chasm. 

For I'm an enchantress, old and grave; 

Concealed I rule the w^^ather; 
Oft set I, the lover's heart a blnzt*, 
With hidden power of my fulgent lays. 
Or seek I the souls of dying men. 
And call the sea-tides from the fen. 

And drift them out together. 

1 call the rain from the mountain's peak, 

And sound the mighty thunder; 
When I wax and wane trom week to week, 
The heavens stir, while vain men seek. 
To solve the myst'ries that I hold, 
But a bounded portion I unfold, 
So nations pass and wonder. 



^74- 



(3l6ai)ii}gs Of Qaiet JloAps. 



Yea, my hidden strength no man may kttow; 

Nor myst'ries be expounded ; 
VU cause the tidal waves to flow, 
And I shall wane, and larger grow, 
Yet while mm rack his shallow brais« 
The secrets with me still remain, 

He seeks in vain, confounded. 



INSULTED. 

MY Mamma is a mean old sing, 
An' toss as she tan be; 
I'm doeing to pack my doll ttunt, 
An' doe to Ga'n'ma Lcc. 

My Mamma baked a dinger tate, 
Den panked me shameful hard, 

Dust 'tause I stuck my finder in, 
An' filled de holes wiz lard. 



.75- 



Giesnirjfls Of QCiiet floCiPS, 



If I was down to G'an'ma Lee, 

She'd siy **Ionie, shame!" 
And fen I 'ud tomoipnce to ky, 

She'd call me pitty names. 

But Mamma, fus, she slapped my car, 
Den jerked me fum de chair, 

And panked and flung me on de lounge. 
An* said, *'You dus' lay dere!" 

Vm doein' to tell my Papa, too, 

Fen he turn home tonight, 
He'll take me back to g'an'ma, 

An' out of Mamma's sight. 

An* fen she det so lonesome, 

Like she did las' week, an' kied, 

I won't yun out an' tiss her, 
I'm doeing way, an* hide. 



-76- 



Gleanirigs Of QCxiet {ioCirs. 



SOFT BLACK EYES. 

OFT black eyes, all pensive, tender, 
Changeful as a shifting ray; 
N >w, in sympathy they linger, 

Now, in mirth, they flash away. 
Orbs o\ midnight, like a dart, 
Doth thou pierce my aching heart! 

Soft black eyes, half coy, half artless, 
Half in earnest, half in jest, 

Well I know thou art not heartless. 

Yet thy tricks doth pain my breast. 
Orbs of night, gaze a caress, 
Thou, alone, my life canst bless! 

Soft black eyes, so sweet and soothing, 

Knowest thou from day to day, 
My sad life in sighs Vm losing. 

Sighing heart and soul away? 

Let my plight, those stars molest! 

Sympathy will give me rest. 

RAPHAEL. 

EHOLD young Rnphael coming back; 
How long the time doth seem. 
Since last he parted from the side 
Of her, his sweetest dream. 

-77- 



Cjlecir)iJ7fls Of QCiiet floCirs, 



And yet a fortnight scarce hath past, 
Since last he left her side, 

And saw these soft eyes fill with tears; 
His love, his joy, his pride. 

And now ht's coming back again, 
A husband's place to lioid ; 

He seeks cornmunion with himself, 
And saunters 'cross the wold. 

With polished rifle on his arm, 
And hunting coat of gray, 

His Pilot trotting at his heel. 
With joy he winds his way. 

Though Raphael is a marksman fair, 

Of hunting over fond, 
Ere yet, he lifteth not his gun, 

lo bring tht good game down. 

But now doth rouse he from his dream. 
And cocks his trusiy gun; 

For he hath reached the willowed dell. 
Where deer is wont to run. 

The day is calm, soft breezes blow, 

And all is still as dawn; 
Upon the lake, among the rush. 

Are floating, fiocks of swan. 

-78- 



(3l€ai7ir}gs Of Qaiet floars. 



Then saith young Raphael, as he gaze 
On rush, and willows 'round, 

**The truant deer hath sought the cliffs, 
And naught but swan I've found." 

V\l choose the whitest of the flock," 
Thus did young Raphael speak, 

**As symbol of the pure young heart 
Of her, whose hand I seek." 

And so, adown the dell he peers, 
And through the rush he sees, 

A mass of downy whiteness there, 
Half hidden by the leaves. 

He lifts his gun, he takes good aim, 

And forward Pilot start: 
Triumphantly he lowers his piece; 

He knows he's hit the mark. 

Oh luckless youth, retrace thy steps! 

The sight that waits thine eyes, 
Will turn thy ebon locks to snow; 

And waste thy life with sighs. 

Oh deadly bullet, why so true? 

What havoc thou hast wrought. 
To turn into the deepest gtief. 

Young Raphael's noblest thought! 



Gie^Y)iY)gs Of QCiiet floars. 



For there, half hidden by the rush, 
Doth lie a heap like snow; 

Poor Pilot whines and licks the face, 
Of one full well he know. 

And now, young Raphael's coming up; 

He puis tile rush aside, 
And there upon the sward, beholds. 

His game — his own loved bride. 

One look reveals his waiting love, 

All clad in snowy while. 
Her angel face, ht-r bosom red — 

He groans — and all is night. 

Oh young, heart-broken, weary youth! 

God chasteneth wiiom lie love; 

Thy thoughts were ever with thy bride; 

They never soared above. 

But since the one thou lovest so well, 
Hast flown to realms of rest. 

Thy whole soul turneth to thy God, 
And yearneth for the blest. 

And when thy keenest grief is past, 
And hushed thy deepest sighs, 

Thou'lt deem her bur an angel sent, 
To lure thee to the skies. 



-80- 



Qleat)ii}gs Of Qdiet floaps. 



A DOMESTIC STORM. 

'»M goin* to whoop you, Sammy Taylor, 
Done gone eat nigh half my pie! 
**Picase Ma, honest, no I never,*' 
Hesh dat tellin' me dat lie! 

Here's de prints uv dirty flngahs, 

As you tilted up de lid ; 
Here, you smeared de plate wid grape juice; 

«*Nom' I didnV Yc» you did! 

Ma'ch your&e'f right in dis kitchen! 

''Please, I didn't steal it Mum, 
See, I've been out hunting bird eggs, 

Jtst got back afore you come." 

Hunting bird eggs! didn't I tell you 
Dat 'twas wrong to pester birds? 

Thought I told you to mind Viney, 
Don't you say another word! 

Den you didn*t steal de grape-pie. 

Do some meanness doe you would ; 

Wonder, den, if Viney eat it? 

Ef she did, I'll whoop her good. 



e!e8i)ir)fls Of Qalet fioCirs, 



Viney! — *Ma*am!* — Ma'ch in dis kitchen; 

Taint no use fo* you to cry; 
I can see as plain as daylight, 

Dat 'twus you dat eat de pie. 

Eat dat pie Miss Julie sent me. 

When Jim cya'ed de washin* home! 

You knowed dat youM got yo' po'tion, 
Ef you went an' left it 'lone. 

Ef you wont hear to Miss Vi'let, 

Whut she teach in Sunday School, 

Den I'll try anothah method, 

I will whoop you to de rule. 

Where's my switch? Jest ti*ed uv foolin; 

Ought to done dis long befo! 
O-o-f)! Please Ma dont whoop no harder, 

Honest! I wont steal no mo*! 

Sit right down da' in dat cornah ; 

Stop dat sniffin'l wipe dat nose! 
Ef I'd set, and let you do it. 

Next you'd eat de house I s'pose. 



83- 



Gisar)ii}gs Of Quist |*ioars. 



An' you's been out huntio' bird egj^s, 

Spite uv all I said to you, 
When I told you to mind Vinsy! 

Dahj now! Dah ! ''Please, Mammie, oo-o-o! 

"I wont never steal no bird eggs. 
Please quit whoopin* Mammie, do 

FU mind Viney good, the next time! 
Guess you will,, you rascal, yow. 



A 



A LITTLE WREN, 

WREN dropped down on my window sill. 
And his little feet was hid in the snow; 
Yet he tossed me a saucy glance, as to say, 

I'm happy out here where the ice wind blow 
And life seems bright and cheerful as May; 
And you inside, in your soft armchair, 
Seems half in content and half in dispair. 



-83 



6!6?|i}ir)gs Of Qalet PoQrs, 



And coyly he frisked about in the snow, 
And the white flakes flew from his dainty 
feet ; 
And airily lifting his little right wing, 

With latest wren etiquette me did he greet; 
Then dashed he away, with a merry swing: 
And I thought as he scurried away from my sight, 
Contentment is his who reads it aright. 

He was without and I was within ; 

Yet he had the sunshine, I had the shade; 
With life as it was, he e'er could rejoice, 

While I must be pampered, and comforts 
be made, 
Ere I my jubilant joys ceuld voice; 
And I thought as I mused on the failings of mn, 
Which does God deems wisest, the sage or tin: 
wren? 



IN THE VALLEY. 
H GOD! my heart is thine, 
Content, am I in Thee; 
Thy chast'ning rod but proves, 
That Thou, abides with me. 



a 



I know Thou leadeth on. 

But oh, the way is drear; 

Naught, but the click of thorns, 
Is sounding in my car. 

-S4- 



Qlear)ir}gs Of Qaiet Poars, 



I cry, Thy will be done!' 

My heart is with the cry; 

Yet comes not light, nor peace, 
To soothe my tear=dim eye. 

My heart craves earthly things; 

I feel its nature's claim; 
Since Thou didst give me life, 

Canst I discard an aim? 

The hot blood stirs my brain, 

And sweet dreams to me flock 

Alas! I see them wrecked, 
Upon Ambition's rock. 

Oh Christ! C )me down to earth, 

An elder brother, be; 
And pilot Thou, my barque. 

Which drifts, capriciously. 

Oh wrench me from the toils, 
Of this entangled mesh! 

My spirit strives for Thee, 
Despite the erring flesh. 



»-oS " 



Ql€sr)ii)gs Of QCxiet jloCirs, 



ADDRESS TO ETHIOPIA. 

©H, ill-starred Ethiopian — 
My weak and trampled race! 
Wit^ fathomless emotion, 

Thy dismal path I trace. 

Thy bright and stalwart, swarthy, sons, 
Thy meek-eyed daughters, fair, 

I trace through centuries bygone, 
Of misery and despair. 

Thy fatherg' fathers, ^ong were taught, 
Nay, forced by tyrants, bold, 

To worship at a mortal shrine. 
With humble heart and soul. 

So long hath slav'ry's blasting hand. 
O'er thee its power swayed. 

That now, though freed »m swtet is thine, 
I see thee cowed and dazed. 

The sin is at thy tyrant's door; 

The curse is at thine own; 
And e'er will rest upon thy head. 

Till thou wilt tear it down. 



-86'- 



Gtlsanipgs Of Qaiet Jfioars, 



Oh! rouse thy slumb'ring manhood, strong! 

A foothold boldly earn; 
And scorn thy brothers' patronage, 

When he's thy fellow-worm. 

Tear down those idols thou hast built, 

In weakness to the proud! 
KnoueNt thou that in thy olindness,dcep, 

Thou desecrate thy God? 

Oh! rise in union great and strong! 

H )ld each black brother, dear; 
And form a nation of thine own, 

Despite thy tyrant's jeers! 

We need not reek in blood and groans, 

This is a war within; 
We need but conquer cow' ring self, 

And rise a man, with men. 

What though our number may be few? 

Hath not the Jews long stood, 
In uionns strong, *mid myriads 

Of foes, who craved their blood? 



-87- 



Ql€;eii}ii}fls Of Qaiet Iloar». 



Then, rise oh fainting Ethiopes! 

And gather up thy strength; 
For, by repeated efforts, strong, 

ThouMt gain thy ground at length. 

The same God hast created thee, 
Who did thy fairer brother; 

Thinkst thou, that in His justice, great, 
He'd prize one 'bove the other? 



AUTUMN. 

T 1ST to the sad wind, drearily moaning; 
A2O Moaning the fate of the choicest and best ; 
Seest those red leaves descending in torrents? 
'Tis blood drops of warriors sinking to 
rest. 
Many a volley theyVe turned in their glory, 
Now, lack-a-day! They perish, all gory. 



•88- 



Qie5r)ir)gs Of Qaiel fioars. 



Ever they conquered and victory boasted, 

O'er storm and o'er drought and voUies 
of rain; 

Showing more strength when battle was over, 
And bearing off laurels again and again. 

Flushed with success, did they go forth rejoicing. 

Now their ill-fate, the sad wind is voicing. 

Fiercely the frost-king urged on his subjects, 

Spreading destruction o'er hillside and fen! 

Yet bravely they fought, not one e'er despairing, 
Till gushing with life-blood, they fell down 
like men. 

Now the pathos of death the last scene is lending. 

Who'd have believe such a fate was impending. 



-89 



Ql€5i}ir)gs Of QCiiet floCirs, 



© 



LINES TO EMMA. 

H, could I but sing as the minstrels of old ! 
Whose beautiful love songs ring still in uur 

ear! 
In accents so musical, rhythmical, clear, 
Now soaring majestical, now hov'ring near, 
With passionate tenderness, shy and yet bold. 
That enamored his lady-love, ruffled her 

breast, 
And drew her frail form to his bosom, for rest! 

Oh, could I, my sweetheart charm thus to my 
breast, 
Methink overflowing, my cup would then be; 
To gaze to the depth, of those eyes' liqui J se.i, 
And cause them to waver and droep before me, 
And to feel my glad heart throb wild with the 
zest, 
While tenderly holding her in my embrace. 
And feasting my eyes on her fair, angel face. 

But alas I am luckless, dear Emma the best, 
And sternly hath Cupid dealt fate unto me; 
To stir my love passion, and yet let me see, 
A maiden that yearneth another's to be. 

And yearns not in vain, to be queen of his breast. 
For my bosom too often has felt that keen dart, 
T'> be wrong in sounding a brother's sore heart. 



91)- 



(31eai)ir)gs Of Qaiet Jioard, 



UNCLE JIMMIE'S YARN. 

DTD I evah tell you, Sonny, 
Well, a»he! he! he! 
De trick I played in Dixie, 

'Way back in 'sixty-three? 
I wus wild an' full uv mischief, 

An' reckless ez could be, 
In dem rough ole days in Natchef, 
'Way back in 'sixty- three. 

I wus out a-for'gin', Sonny, 

Well, a he! he! he! 
Out a-doin' debbilment, 

Big man sah, who but me? 
Had a smackin' big hoss-pistol, 

'Long bout dis size, confound! 
Jest to wa'm dem rebels' jackets, 

An' make dem jump around. 

It wus early Sunday mawnin*, 

Well, a-he! he! he! 
When all de boys wus restin, 

'Cept sma'ties, jest like mc, 
I, astride my coal black filly, 

Cumed a-lopin' up de hill, 
Whar I halted an' sot lookin', 

Down Natchez, ca'm an' still. 

-91- 



Qi€8r)ii)gs Of Qaiet Jloars, 



I could see de great big buildins', 

Well, a-he! he! he! 
A r'arin' up tha steeples. 

Dat seemed a sassin' me; 
Den I pulled ole roa'in' Betsey, 

An' aimed de cupelo, 
Uf de co'thouse uv de rebels, 

An' let de triggah go, 

I wus handy wid a pistol. 

Well a he! he! he! 
My ban' wus true an' stiddy, 

Fuh I wus young, you see; 
So my fust shot toe a slab off, 

Nigh big ez dat ba'n doe; 
Dat jest riled me wus dan evah, 

Soj once mo* I let huh go. 

Den de othah side, I leveled, 

Well, a-he! he! he! 
She jest to'e tings to pieces, 

Ez any eye could see; 
So den, nuttin but de centah pa'tj 

U¥ dat fine cupelo, 
Wus a-standin* now fuh Natchez, 

De rest wus layin' loWc 



92 



Qlear)ir)gs Of QCiiet fio6rs. 



Den I loaded roa'in Betsy, 

Well, a-he! he! he! 
An' cracked it on de centah, 

An' Betsy bawled out, Dee! 
De centah pa't jest crumbled down, 

Sho Sonny, yes sah ree! 
So dat settled wid dat co't-house, 

'Way back in 'sixty-three» 

D^n I wheeled, an' spurred my filly; 

Well, a he! he! he! 
An' put off fuh de barracks, 

Ez fas' ez fas' could be: 
I could heah de bullets whislin', 

About my very head, 
Fuh I'd hit de rebel's bee-hive, 

An' dey answered me wid lead« 

When atlast I reached de barracks, 

Well, a=he! he! he! 
Do captain standin* 'kimbo, 

Wus fus man dat I see; 
**Whut's you doin' to dem rebels? 

You vagabond, he sed, 
You raised mo' fuss an' smoke down dah, 

Dan evah could oic Ned/* 



-93 



Ql€ss}iJ)gs Of QOiiet PoCiPS, 



Den de laugh his eyes *gin twinkl-n', 

Well, a-he! he! he! 
An' so I bust out laughin', 

I seed dat I wus free; 
*You*il git yo* fill uy fightin',sah, 

You roscil !' Den, says he, 
And dat wound up de co't house scrap *, 

'Way back in *sixty-three. 



OH, WHENCE COMES THE GLADNESS? 

©H, whence comes the gladness? 
The joy fraught with madness? 

The hopes and the fancies of childhood's 

bright day? 
The weird exultation, 
And rife animation, 

That sets all the heart strings, 

A-chord with the May. 



^U- 



C3Ie5i)ir?gs Of Qaiet fiocirft, 



From whence comes the Wonder-Land? 
Likewise the Fairy land? 

The halo encircling, the trifles of life? 
The bright dream materialized? 
The bear and wolf humanized? 

The bugbear, the werwolf, 

And fair water sprite? 

Then searched I with lightness, 
The summer sun's brightness; 

There caught I a glimpse of this cov< 
cted mirth, 
Then sought I the South Wind; 
Among the rank clinging vine; 

And caught it once more. 

As it fled from the earth. 



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Ql€ei)ii>9s Of QCxiet Ilo6rs, 



A KINDLY DEED. 

A THOUGHT flashed 'cross a kindly mind. 
It grew into a deed; 
A deed, that stretched a helping hand, 
Unto a brother's need. 

That brother, strengthened by the deed. 

In humble gratitude, 
Passed on the blessing he received. 

To do another good. 

And on it went, and yeirs passed by; 

'Til, as the maxsm run. 
This deed, around its circuit passed, 

Returned where it begun. 

It found its owner sunken low. 

In heartache's bitter groan; 
The thought, the deed of that far day. 

Proved but a friendly loan. 



96- 



Qlear)ir)ys Of Qaiel jlcKiPS, 



THE OLD FREEDMAN. 

HE sits in front of the bright, blazing grate; 
A poor old freedman, maimed and gray; 
With worn hands folded, he sits and waits, 

His Master's summons, from day to day. 
His ebon brow is seamed deeply with care; 

His dim eyes, robbed of their scanty sight, 
By the dnzzling red of the ember's glare. 

Sets him to dreaming as thou 'twere night. 

And his hard, early life comes, scene by scene, 
As acts appear on a play-house stage; 
While he sits with a thoughtful smile, serene, 

And views the past, in a dreamy maze. 
Yes, now he can smile as he thinks on those days. 
For the fire of youth has long fled his breast; 
He has cast the burden of past care away, 
And humbly looks to his Master, for rest. 

He hears the fierce screams of his mother, wild, 

Anguished and startling, and loud as of old; 
While haplessly he, her remaining child, 

Is hurried "down the river," and sold. 
And now comes the scene of that sugar farm, 
Where the lash and fever, rules supreme; 
Where the humid, sickly, atmosphere, warm. 
Brings on a giddiness, e'en in his dream. 



,97- 



6l€8r)ii)gs Of QCxiei Ilo6rs, 



He is hoeing cane, with a stalwart pace, 

And with him, a girl, the joy of his life; 
With her graceful figure and dark bro vn face. 
And her sunny sniile — his own fair wife. 
When e'er the overseer's back is turned, 

He lends a strong hand to her lagging row; 
That her exacting task may be earucd, 

To ward from her back, the brutal blow. 

Despite the appalling cross-^s of lif<% 

He deems himself, e'en a happy nan; 
Just to have her near and to cail h'M- ^vvife', 

And to hurriedly press her little worn liand. 
The third scene is or, and nt>w he behold. 

His Lucy comins: with eyes fi" 'd with *ears ; 
**Oh Ruben," she's crying, "why I'm to be sole!'' 
The words fall like doom upon his shocked 
ears. 

Again that dull giddiness rises within, 

His lower limbs wiakrn, he rests on his hoe; 
He feels her embraces again and again. 

Then turns she, and back to the 
**big house" doth go. 
Her fieetincT form brings him back to himself; 

He drops his hoe, with a desperate gro.n; 
He'll make the rude trader take hack his foul pelf 
He'll claim his wife, for she is his own. 

Oh, futile struggle! he sees his fair love. 

Borne oflf by tiie rude, evil, trader, who 
spoils, 

While he helplessly, calls on his Father above, 

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Ql6sr)ir)gs Of QCxiet fIo6rs, 



Atid is fiercely, brutally, lashed for his toils. 
Oil , let us pass over the dark days that came, 

And rev'rently screen this act of his life! 
Wlieii the anguish of Rizpah, who mourned for 

her slain, 

Could not be compared, with his grief o'er 

his wife. 

And now, clears the smoke, that is black as the 
night; 
He stands firm a giant with Gettysburg's brave 
The death blows he deals, in the hand to hand 
fight. 
Serve vengeance to rebels who late held him 
slave. 
And now, he is come to the calm years of peace; 

His restless wand'rings in search of his wife; 
When despaired and dibcouraged* his wanderings 

cease. 
And he fills with religion, the void of his life. 

And now the last scene, the triumphant, the 
grand ! 

With dim sight renewed and infirmities, fled, 
Fair Lucy once more is pressing his hand. 

And Jesus is placing a crown on his head. 
For there, in front of the bright blazing, grate, 

With a sad, kind, smile, and expressionless eye, 
At the end of the day, in the even, late, 

He hid taken his flght, tj his home on high. 

-99- 



Gl€8r)ii)9s Of QCxiet Jlo^rs. 



THE OLD YEAR. 

INFIRM and aged, doth he sit, 
And ponder on the gilded past; 
His brilliant eyes, alas, death-lit. 

Is like a spark, too bright to last. 

And muses he on days now sped, 

When he, a youth, with staff and thong, 
Pursued the waning year, that fled, 

And left him monarch brave and strong. 

What happy days they seem to be, 

Now that they number with the past; 

But hark! those distant shouts of glee! 
He cuts his musings with a gasp. 

With bony hands he grasps his cape, 

And wraps it 'bout his trembling form; 

Then turns, a humped, decrepit, shape, 

And flees the coming of the morn. 

And as his wasted form doth drift. 

All mist-like, through the frosty air, 

Close in the rear, behold a rift; 

And through it comes the glad New Year. 



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flB 31 190§ 



/ 



